The Eagle's Last Flight
by Ambiguousalamony
Summary: The bladers of Tsubasa's generation are dying out. He quit blading long ago, when it became too much of a toll on his body. Most of his friends are dead, or standing around until the grim reaper catches up with them. Tsubasa's old, and he's ready. But he doesn't want to commit suicide, heaven knows he's thought of it. Otori has one last thing to do on this earth. Mild GxM and KxH.
1. Tsubasa's Musings

**Gimme a break. It was almost midnight when I got the idea for this. I've been listen to a mix of One Piece music and Halestorm ever since. **

**. . .**

Tsubasa runs his hand through his hair. Decades had yet to change its (albeit unusual) color, and he can proudly boast of his locks thinning only a _little_. Only Kyoya, Zyro, and Shinobu could say that after sixty years. Yu also had bragging rights, but like so many others, he was dead.

Frankly, the old bladers had been dropping like flies. Three years ago Gingka Hagane kicked the bucket. It shocked everyone to the core. One day, he was laughing with his _great-_grand kids, the next, his heart just . . . stopped. Tsubasa remembers clearly, even through cataract-impaired sight, that even Kyoya Tategami's eyes were streaming at the funeral. Of course Kenta and Madoka took it the hardest, but with Kyoya silently crying, you can only imagine how they were faring.

Speaking of which, Madoka Hagane, formerly Madoka Amano, passed merely a week ago. Tsubasa went to her funeral yesterday.

There were less tears that time . . . not because she was less loved than her husband, but because the people gathered there were starting to come to terms with a certain fact: Hagane's generation of bladers was old. They were sick, had more wrinkles and scars then they would care to admit, and were more than ready to leave this Earth.

But Gingka and Madoka weren't the only ones to go. Benkei, Yu, Hyoma, Maru, Nile, Kira, Sakyo, Zeo, and many, many others were wandering around the Pearly Gates, waiting for their friends to get off their butts and catch up.

That's why, after Madoka's funeral, Tsubasa made a pact with the few companions he had left. That day, they got identical bracelets. Every last one of them. Each said the same thing: "Do not Resuscitate."

They were tired, and their patience was worn thin. It was more than obvious that Kyoya would have downed a bottle of sleeping pills years ago if he didn't have a sickly wife to take care of. But Hikaru came first. The Lion's rematch in eternity with Hagane could wait half a decade or so. Tategami would hang on as long as his wife would, but not much longer than that.

Tsubasa chuckles, feeling pity for Gingka. Kyoya would fly to his reward with a scream and a roar. Pegasus wouldn't stand a chance.

. . .

Suddenly, Otori is knocked out of his revelries by a sharp gust of wind. He takes a hair tie from his pocket and wraps it around his now longer-than-necessary mane of white. Old men tend to get lazy, but Tsubasa had simply erased the thought of going to the barber from his head. Frivolous, expensive, and he always looking like a lamp shade afterwards.

As Zyro had been so kind as to point out to him.

Or, maybe, something in Tsubasa just wants the old Yu to come up and give his ponytail a good ol' yank.

On second thought, maybe not. Otori's too old to be mixed up with the occult.

While he's on that topic (sort of) the WBBA Prez thinks about why _he's_ sticking around. There isn't a particular reason to stay. Perhaps its he just doesn't want to give the company bad PR by killing himself. Wouldn't exactly be a sparkling sentiment in the papers, would it? Or he just can't stand the thought of his friends looking down from heaven, and _**BAM**_ they see Tsubasa Otori OD'ing on sedatives. Yu would never let him hear the end of it.

And it IS eternity he's talking about. . .

The Prez sighs tiredly. He'd fallen recently and was still limping on his left. Tsubasa's an old man. Would it kill God to kill him already? What purpose does he have left in this world? Maybe he should commit a passive form of suicide . . . like regularly eating those "triple beef burgers" Gingka loved so much.

Ugh . . . no. Just no. (Tsubasa had gone vegan decades ago. Reportedly, Hagane's diet drove him to it. He's now regretting the extra time it bought him.)

. . . .

The autumn chill seeps through the blader's light jacket, and he instinctively pulls it closer, then tightens the scarf his daughter had knit _especially_ for him. It was a deep violet, and they had been constant companions. (Since his body temperature had been out of whack lately.)

A blood red leaf dropped lazily to the ground. It reminded the Prez how good he had it.

Hikaru was cancerous, and it had metastasized in her brain. Three days ago, she had decided on her own, despite Kyoya's loud disapproval, she wouldn't fight it. Doctor gave her a couple of months, tops.

But Tsubasa had seen the look in her eyes-the all-too-familiar "I'm ready" smile. He gave her a week.

Kyoya, of course, would follow suite, one way or another. He was a stubborn SOB, no denying that. _Probably the only way he got Hikaru to accept his proposal in the first place._

_She was a lucky girl._

Feeling another bit of his heart crack at the thought of losing another friend, Tsubasa continues walking. He takes note of every car that passes, paying more attention to the ones going over the speed limit. He was honestly ashamed of this habit, but really, Otori was going insane with boredom. He'd retired from blading, swapping it for tutoring the local kids, but it could never replace the feeling of power. Of raw, undeniable freedom. He dearly missed being able to talk to Earth Eagle as well.

_**CRASH!**_

Glass explodes behind the 67-year old. The ex-blader whirls around with a grace not even age could strip from him. A man in a black hockey mask and hoodie jumped through the broken window. He carried a sack of stolen goods . . . and a gun.


	2. Bait Burglar

**I plan on pulling out all the character stops at one point or another. Kenta, Benkei, Gingka, for certain, Yu's a sure thing, maybe a few more. And get ready to cry. **

**. . . . . . . **

_Glass explodes behind the 67-year old. The ex-blader whirls around with a grace not even age could strip from him. A man in a black hockey mask and hoodie jumps through the broken window. He's carrying a sack of stolen goods . . . and a gun._

The cowboy with an Uzi Eagle looks around wildly, eyes eventually landing on the WBBA Prez. "H-h-h-hands u-up! I-I can s-shoot this th-thing!"

Tsubasa didn't wait. He didn't think. He just moved.

He collided with the robber, ripping the mask off his face.

_17. Maybe 18. A kid. Probably stole his dad's gun. I'd bet half the company he never shot one in his life. It's literally got Uzi emblazoned on it, and the kid swings it around like a plaything. And he called it a **thing**. You don't call an Uzi **thing**. That's just pasting a target on your back and yelling at Karma "come get me". _Tsubasa sighed, making himself comfortable on the teenager's chest, and helped himself to the gun.

"Little young to be throwing around this kind of firepower, aren't you?" The older man wrinkled his nose, holding the firearm between his index finger and thumb. Even if it did carry the title of eagle, Tsubasa would never like guns.

One of this weapon's cousins killed Yu, after all.

Otori looked down at his would-be assailant. Kiddie Crime was brown-haired, and decent looking, but otherwise non-descript. From the blatant terror in his eyes, Tsubasa made him out to be a mama's boy. Likely never dreamed of robbing a . . . Otori turned his head to see what sort of store the little felon robbed. Big mistake.

Prez, caught off guard, was suddenly pushed to the ground.

Police sirens sound in the distance.

The Eagle faintly noticed that no one has yet to come out of Joe's Bait and Tackle.

Apparently his charming robber friend scared them silly.

_Tells you something about people. Back in the OLD DAYS three honest bladers and a couple of gangsters would have my back by now. I'm over sixty people. Too old to be pulling these stunts. I get a backache from lifting a stack of paperwork._

"I TOLD YOU TO PUT YOUR HANDS UP, OLD MAN!" Tsubasa huffs at this. So what if he had a few wrinkles? He can, and _did_ tackle this naïve little neophyte to the ground. Admittedly, he'd most likely bust his hip now, but . . . oh, never mind . . .

"Old Man Tsubasa" pulled his head out of the clouds and cuts the heroics.

"Y-YOU JUST HAD TO PLAY THE HERO, DIDN'T YA?! JUST HAD TO SEE MY FACE?!" Otori's attacker seemed to have thrown away sanity, pupils becoming lost in a sea of white.

Tsubasa waits for the kid to stop talking and run, like a normal newbie, who has yet to accept killing as a way of life. The blader can see the thief is sweating buckets, hands shaking, but isn't sure about his eyes. Tsubasa's vision is too fuzzy for fine details at this distance.

But it's easy to see the boy's staying put.

"Listen, kid-"

"LISTEN KID NOTHING! MY FATHER WOULD KILL ME IF HE HEARD I'D ROBBED THIS PLACE! BUT I HAD TO! _**I HAD TO.**_" _C'mon kiddo, coppers are almost here. The yelling is getting old. I'm not really all that intimidated. . . Just shoot me or run. The suspense has me more on edge than the volume of this conversation._

The gun cocks.

The kid starts crying.

"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . I can't face him . . ."

The kid puts his mask on.

_**BANG.**_

Tsubasa hears it before he feels it, but never sees it coming. _Bet he does drugs._


	3. Aftermath

******Songs of inspiration: American Pie and Blackbird**

******Well, well, well, aren't you people lucky. *Evil smirk.* But seriously, I've never updated this fast in my life. I must be in the mood to torture poor Tsubasa. Oh, well, the cuter they are . . .**

******. . .**

******BANG.**

_Tsubasa hears it before he feels it, but never sees it coming. _Bet he does drugs.

The WBBA President faintly heard footsteps.

_I absolutely refuse to believe I let myself get shot by a kid. I'm four times his age, and I let myself get shot by a petrified greenhorn. This is humiliating. _

Tsubasa lies in a pool of his own blood for a few seconds, waiting for the blasted light to hurry up and shine down here already. He eventually opens his eyes to check exactly where he got plugged.

Shoulder, and a darn good three inches above his heart to boot. Oops. Wasted theatrics.

That's a wee bit embarrassing.

Gathering his few shreds of dignity, but still in a horrible amount of agony, Tsubasa climbed to his feet. Looking around dazedly, he saw the thief had left his plunder. Temporarily forgetting his dignity, and pain, Otori just gaped, feeling a mixture of disbelief and anger. _Really, the kid shoots me and then just DROPS the stuff he nailed me for?_

_He knows he's going to be going to be psychiatrists for the next couple of decades because of this, right?_

Ugh. Teenagers nowadays. Half a century ago, Kenta could have pulled off a better heist.

The white-haired gentleman groaned, clutching his shoulder, going pale. This was bad. Kid had missed the heart, but blood loss is also a perfectly legitimate way to meet one's end. Otori let himself sink to his knees-standing elevates blood pressure, a very, very bad thing in this situation.

He became vaguely aware of a police car pulling up to the curb.

"SHUNKI, Get yer &!# outta the car, we've got wounded! _Oh dear God_, It's the WBBA's President . . ." _Great, things are going white, and it's not because I've got hair in my face._

Tsubasa passed out.

He wasn't in the mood to be pelted with questions anyways.

. . .

The Eagle wakes up an indeterminate number of hours later. "Kyo-yo" was by his side, not looking particularly worried. But, then, that's just Tategami. He pushes forward, and doesn't always pay too much attention to the people who fall by the wayside.

Eh, in all fairness, he had changed some over the years. Mellowed out a bit, seemed to be somewhat more willing to show he cares. Other than that, he's still a stubborn &!#. Wouldn't be Kyoya if he wasn't.

"Felt like playing nursemaid?"

Kyoya grunted.

Otori sighed.

He should be thankful that Kyoya at least visited. They'd never really known each other that well, even after all these years. But after Nile died . . . well, the green and grey-haired man started clutching at the few friends he had left.

"Did they say how long I have left or did the doctor figure dropping you in here would be enough for a complete recovery?"

Kyoya grunted.

Okay, so apparently Tsubasa was either going to live and Kyoya's in no mood for humor (as usual), or one of the doctors let it slip that he was terminal.

"Hikaru's in a coma."

_Hm. No wonder he's become so silent. Poor man. _

"I see."

"I'm going to outlive her."

_Oh. _

_This isn't good._

Tsubasa didn't need a psych degree to figure out where this was going. The Lion kept going because _Hikaru_ did. With Hikaru one step away from dead, he must be one step away from suicide.

"She's still alive."

"_But I'm not." _Tsubasa was a bit taken aback by this reply. It was, really, quite unexpected. Kyoya wasn't one metaphors, he hit you with a one-two punch of information, and didn't stop to cushion his words.

The Lion looks up, the light in eyes, once on fire with an almost animalistic passion, finally burnt out.

"I can't last much longer. Neither can she. But _months _the doctor said. Of her conscious. Nothing about a &^# $* COMA. I can't hear her voice, never will again in this life." Kyoya clenches his hands into fists, probably mulling over bad memories. "I can't even see her smile. She won't, CAN'T squeeze back when I hold her hand. Tell me _now _that my wife is alive." Otori starts to internally panic. This conversation was going south. Fast.

"And talking to Leone does nothing. I can only see him, _feel_ him when one of the kids are battling. Then he goes right back in the glass case to collect dust."

Tsubasa hums in empathy, being in a similar situation himself.

_ I can't just let Kyoya give up. He's almost at the end of the road, and now he wants to jump in a river. What would Hagane do . . .? _

A beat of tense silence later . . .

_Bingo._

"Is this how you want Gingka to see you go out? Giving up? He payed his dues and did his time. He couldn't beyblade, either, if you remember. He was forced out before any of us, save Hikaru. I believe it was due to his _hand being cut off ten years prior_. It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience. You have nothing to complain about. We're on this Earth for as long as we're supposed to be. Hagane didn't give up, even with phantom pains dogging him for every last year of his life, what gives you the right to?"

Tsubasa knows there's only one valid excuse to this argument: _Some people can't hang onto life just because of pride (and I'm one of them). _

Kyoya would never, ever, play that card. He'd rather be stripped of every last strand of his dignity, beaten, and left for dead in an unforgiving desert sun. A true lion never lets go of his pride, and this one in particular had earned his stripes ten times over. He wouldn't just thrown them to the wind now.

"You sneaky son of a *&#:." Lion's sapphire eyes meet the Eagle's golden.

"That your only answer?" _Checkmate._

"Yeah, I think it is." Kyoya stood up, probably to stalk away, but not before Otori sees a glimmer of determination return to the man's gaze.

. . .

The green-haired knucklehead hesitates just as he's about to go out the door.

"Thanks."

Tsubasa nods.

"Same here."

Kyoya looked at his friend quizzically, but shrugged, and continued on his path. Otori was always a puzzle, and he has other things to attend to, like polishing Leone. The old Lion's gonna hafta look good when he battles Pegasus in the hereafter.

**. . .**

******HA! Tsubasa lives! So far, at least. **

******Edit- Whoops. Whole dang thing was in bold . . . Sorry, fixed it . . . ugh, need to pay attention to these things . . .**

******Edit 2- In case you're wondering what just happened, Tsubasa said thank you because up until now, he really didn't have much of a reason for living. Well, except for the whole "company reputation" thing. And that was obviously getting lower and lower on his personal agenda. They're sticking around because even through the hardest of times-Gingka losing a freaking hand, Madoka losing her husband, etc. they've stuck it out this far. It would be kind of a waste to not see things through the end. **


	4. Pleading With a Coma

**We'll be switching POV over to Kyoya this round. (It's just temporary, Tsubasa's getting his brain picked by police officers, so he is unavailable for torture at the moment.)**

**. . .**

_The green-haired knucklehead hesitated just as he's about to go out the door._

"_Thanks."_

_Tsubasa noded._

"_Same here."_

Kyoya stalked down the hospital halls, starched white and reeking of lemon. _Lemon. Why does it have to be lemon? Couldn't they switch the soap scent with something like "Mountain Rain" once and a while? "Winter Breeze" maybe? PLEASE? _

The Lion continued grumbling about random inconveniences, glaring at innocent nurses, and otherwise working himself into a fit.

But, as he was in the middle of cultivating a really good _bad_ mood (it's an art, you know), the Earth promptly stops spinning.

_Room P24. _

_Hikaru's room. _

"And here I was hoping I could just storm in and order her to wake up," Kyoya muttered under his breath. He sighed, feeling the old ache return to his chest. It's similar to the time when the doctor told them he had heart disease. This discovery had marked the end of his beyblade career. And the start of Hikaru hitting him over the head with the heaviest object in sight the _second_ his blood pressure started to rise.

It really was a shame, Tategami really had enjoyed the screaming matches with his wife. Life just became all the more dull after that. Of course, the Haganes visited nearly every day for **three years** to share their condolences. Frankly, Kyoya didn't know what he would have done without them, Nile and Demure being long gone. Benkei basically became a tenant.

Kyoya was wrenched from his brooding when the ICU door is opened.

"Tategami-sama? Your wife is stable. You can see her any time you please, you know. We'll be moving her soon, but there's no reason to wait out her-"

The older man shot the young doctor a well-practiced glare. The younger man is kind-faced, black, with dark brown hair in a dreadlock-ponytail. An interesting character, but probably yet another high-class shut in who went into the medical field for the money.

"Oh, so you weren't waiting," the heavily-scarred 60-something's eyes widened. Alright, so this guy was smarter than he looked.

"I know how you feel."

Kyoya growled. That's what they all said, but never meant.

"My daughter's in the room to your right," the doctor waved his goodbye, and Kyoya suddenly finds his shoelaces to be an absorbing spectacle "I'm sure you're every bit as great as Natsuki claims. She's got quite a crush on you. Don't be a stranger. But . . ." the man comically turns on his heel, making his dreadlocks nearly slap him in the face. "Please stop terrorizing my nurses. The only one willing to stand up to you spent ten years in the army. Locking horns with her would do nothing for your heart."

Kyoya blinked.

"How did you-?"

"Medical file. I do my homework."

The doctor saunters away, clearly proud of himself. Tategami just groaned. _Whatever happened to privacy? Right, that went out the window with the invention of Facebook. _

The ex-blader felt all the color drain from his face as he turned his focus on the ICU door.

_Time to suck it up Kyoya. _

The Lion opened the door. It was a clear glass, unlike the rest of the hospital. There was also a distinctive smell of nothing. No coffee, no soapy lemon, nada. Not even the distinctive stench of gossip. Kyoya would kill for that right now. _So this is what it feels like to be intimidated, eh? _

The shades were closed, giving the place a gloomy feel. Tategami decided to open them, as Hikaru always made a point to complain about how the house felt like a cave when he forgot to. He would then joke that it was fitting, as he had to nearly hit her over the head with a club to get her to marry him. Mrs. Tategami would then take the liberty of smacking him on skull with a spatula.

Eh, he deserved it.

_Life was good back then. Painful, but good._

Kyoya took a seat in the single beige wannabe leather chair.

He took his wife of 40 years' hand. She was still warm, heart still pumping, brain working on at least one level. Hikaru, the ol' firebrand, she was here, and somehow she wasn't. Kyoya softly squeezed her palm, but felt like he's the one who's been squeezed over the past few days.

He looked up to the sky, ready to plead, to make a deal, but thought better of it. Miracles don't happen. Not unless God had some big recruitment plan in the works. Kyoya wouldn't sacrifice his pride for a lost cause. He wasn't a preacher, no missionary, heck, for a couple of years, he was teetering on the edge of becoming a murderer. But he had met Gingka and the others. Hikaru, too.

The Lion let one, exactly one, tear drop on their hands.

Hasama had always been a grounding force when Kyoya and Kakeru's business was taking off. A calm voice, almost in a monotone, and the occasional slap on the face worked wonders when he was on the edge of doing something stupid. Or outright panicking. Kyoya nearly cried with relief when he got a kid to pass the business onto. Let someone else go through hell, he was an old man and more than ready to laugh at someone else being in pain for once.

Kakeru wasn't scrambling to stay in charge either.

Now, don't get him wrong, Nile had also been a huge help in preserving the brothers' sanity. But Hikaru . . . was Hikaru . . . scrupulously honest, nice, and wouldn't let herself get sidetracked by a landslide.*

Eventually one tear turns into two, then three, and Tategami finds himself _silently_ sobbing by his wife's bedside. _Was this what she felt like when her mother was dying? _

Pride be damned, Kyoya wanted his wife back.

"Please, please. Just one more day, an hour, a minute, please. She's the only thing I've got left. Just one #^&$*!(# slap on the wrist. _I'm begging You_." Kyoya kept his back straight, even while breaking down. He didn't want nurses to interrupt him in a moment of such weakness. Lions don't collapse in times of strife. They may roar in pain, but they always stand tall.

The scarred man spent a few minutes practically mewing pleas, but eventually gave up. It was an exercise in futility, like he always knew. He looked hopelessly out the window, noticing the sun still had the audacity to shine.

A nuthatch** fluttered to the window. (Kyoya's mother was crazy about them. Nuthatch pictures, pillows, kitchenettes, eek. It was the only reason he could recognize the bird.) It looked the man straight in the eye and blinked, and delicately turned its head to the side, as if trying to figure Kyoya out.

The Lion shook his head for a second, swearing the bird had instead _winked _at him.

Then Tategami felt it.

Hikaru squeezed back against his palm.

Maybe God's willing to give a freebie once in a while.

**. . .**

**Yes, all these things can be said about Nile too, but this particular monologue is about Hikaru.* **

**A Japanese Nuthatch***, of course. ****

**Nuthatch, symbol of grounding faith and higher wisdom.*****


	5. The Eagle's Last Flight

**Oi, its been a bit since I last updated, hasn't it? Well, as I plan on making this the second to last chapter, I'd like to thank MidnightEclipse15, SilentWhisper43, Goctyudicbdkvhb175749674, Risachan, and GalaxyPegasus14 for the reviews, and wish them luck in their future projects. Your support and advice has been much appreciated!**

**Expect a few cameo appearances!**

**. . .**

_Maybe God's willing to give a freebie once in a while._

Tsubasa sighed. It had been a week and a half since his 'little' incident with Kiddie Crime, and, quite honestly, he should have hauled &%* outta that hospital a long time ago. But his daughter was adamant on the subject, knowing he'd go back to stressing over paper work. It was probably punishment for pulling a "Gingka."

. . .

You know, rushing head-on into danger with no idea of what the ^&?# is actually happening. That, and she was furious about the condition of the scarf she had knit just for her father.

Women, ugh. Get yourself shot, they go into a mild panic. But get their needlework shot, oh, well, that's just a mortal sin.

_No. Bad Tsubasa. Do not start thinking like that. One minute you're complaining about your daughter, the next you're addicted to yaoi fics._

Otori had seen it happen to a colleague, he refuses to go down that road.

. . .

The WBBA Prez walked outside the hospital, taking note of the taxis zipping past him, but never seeming to have the notion of stopping for an old man.

Looks like he'd be walking home.

Tsubasa scrunched his nose in disgust. He wasn't lazy, just on the mend from being shot. And three years away from his seventieth birthday. And home sweet penthouse was a good five miles away.

Just HAD to finally break his cellphone, didn't he? Had the same one for fourty years, never needed to replace it once. It even survived his daughter's todler and "daddy can I borrow the car" years. Then Tsubasa went and sat on it last week. (After hearing about how long the elder Otori had the thing, one of his grand kids joked about holding a funeral. Tsubasa seriously considered the idea.)

_Back to getting home._

He didn't have any change for the hospital payphone, and the Prez just couldn't bring himself to ask a stranger to use their phone . . . Eh, at least was a beautiful day, and Tsubasa hasn't had any normal, non-hospital-sanitized air in a while.

The ex-blader meandered down the street, thinking about semi-random, and perfectly relevant topics alike: Should the company try to make a new type of metal for beyblades? Maybe an entirely new series of beys altogether? Something with dinosaurs this round? Should he send his two year-old niece a beyblade, or a set of crayons for her birthday . . .?

A chill forms in the wind, making Tsubasa wish his only piece of winter gear didn't have a hole, and fairly disturbing (permanent) blood stain on it.

. . .

Less than a few blocks away from home, The Eagle felt a sharp pain in his left arm. He winced, feeling it get deeper. Then he got a sensation like a knife plunging into his heart.

The WBBA President collapsed onto the sidewalk.

A teenager, dog yanking her towards the body, found him sprawled on the ground a few seconds later.

She called an ambulance.

She tried to see if he's breathing.

The paramedics arrived a few minutes later. They found a blonde girl with short pigtails and tear tracks on her face. It seems she's a blader, and at least knew of the man on the sidewalk. The medical team checked him for signs of life, and as suspected, find none.

The dog whined, ears flat against his skull.

. . .

"The President of the World Beyblade Battle Association died yesterday. He was found by teenager Hana Kazuma not far from his home. She called the paramedics, but it was apparently too late. The coroner pronounced Tsubasa Otori dead of a heart attack, which most likely killed him instantaneously. In other news . . ."

Kyoya gave a deep-throated sigh, which was more of a growl. He gently squeezed the hand of the little girl in the hospital bed next to him*, and turned off the TV.

_Guess the bird-brain finally got his one-way ticket outta this dump._

A pitter-patter on the window caught Tategami's attention.

_It's raining._

. . .

Yu yawned, rubbing his eyes. When he first got to heaven, an angel had asked him what form he would like to take. Yu was still a blue ball of floating light at that point, and more than slightly confused, so he asked what the winged creature meant.

_"Most humans have a point in their live they would like to remember. A time when they did something great, or at least enjoyed themselves the most. Others simply just want to look young again. We let you decide."_

_Having a body straight from the old days? Back to when he could actually beyblade? Yu didn't have to think twice._

_But before he could say anything, the angel smirked and yelled over the sparkling gate like a fast-food waitress ordering egg rolls._

_"HEY! YOU WITH THE WINGS! TELL PETER I'LL NEED ONE GLORY DAYS WITH A SIDE OF NOSTALGIA!"**_

_Yu would have blinked in disbelief if he could. He settled for a ghostly sweat drop._

_"Don't worry, sir. We'll have your order ready and fitted within the hour. Have a nice afterlife!" cherubim blew their horns, harps sounded, and the gates cracked open. Yu wonders what dying had gotten him into._

It had been years since that . . . rather odd . . . experience. Yu had met up with old friends, new ones, and gotten semi-used to the angels. (Not the easiest feat in the world, believe you me.) But Tendo missed one person in particular, though he felt sort of guilty about it.

_I don't know if I should be ashamed of myself for wishing death on him, or what. Eternal happiness is eternal happiness either way. But when he does get here, I bet it'll be a heckova shock to see me like a kid again!_

Yu inadvertently giggled, then waved as Gingka stalked by.

Heh, he'd been waiting forever for Kyo-yo to kick the bucket. Been itching for a battle ever since he got his hand back. Poor ol' Gingy was getting bored with the local competition, too. Hard to believe, considering he had Tyson and Kai as opponents.

The blond blader jumped to his feet, deciding to hang out at the gate again. The angels had gotten used to him, and his tendency to nickname anything that moved. They were friendly, and funny, but no replacement for the person Yu's looking for.

He cloud-jumped most of the way to Heaven's Gate, stopping only when he almost ran over Benkei.

"Still looking for Kyo-yo?"

The Bull simply nodded, mute from loneliness.

It seemed eternal peace had taken its toll on the goatee'd young man. After all these years, he was still worried the Lion would hate him for thinking, just for one second, that his time training Zyro and company was more important than being Kyoya's 'student.' The poor guy had asked the angels to switch his form back and forth a dozen times in half as many years.

Yu thought Hanawa didn't have enough faith in his friend, and Gingka simply said he'd never speak to, let alone battle, Kyoya again if he so much as hinted in that direction. Yu knew the redhead meant every word.

The Libra and Bull continue their trek towards the Entrance to Heaven. Neither thinking they can last another day without their loved ones by their sides.

**. . .**

**Her father being the doctor from the previous chapter. You know, tall guy, black, dreadlocks in a huge ponytail? One of the few doctors on staff with enough guts to deal with Kyoya? Had a little Tategami fangirl in the hospital, who also happened to be in a coma?***

**This particular angel has been at his job long enough to tell just from the way a soul floats what form they want to take.****


	6. Swing Low, Sweet Chariot

**Well, we're finally here, the last chapter. It's been a genuine pleasure everybody, good luck with your stories! Now, here's hoping I can give this one a properly sappy ending.***

**. . .**

_The Libra and Bull continue their trek towards the Entrance to Heaven. Neither think they can last another day without their loved ones._

Yu looks down at his feet, becoming entranced in swinging them back and forth. Most of their friends had moved on, either finally being joined by long lost best buddies or deciding eternity was not something to be wasted.

The irony of the latter was not wasted on the small blader.

But musings aside, Tendo could see what his friends meant: "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we can do it all over again without so much as a hangover."

Well, you technically couldn't get drunk up here, but that was beside the point. His friends had moved Heaven and Earth, then gone through Hell, all in hopes of saving said Earth. They knew their friends would join them soon enough. Hey, no sense not enjoying a well-earned retirement.

But Yu couldn't really enjoy anything without Tsubasa around. And Benkei felt the same way about Kyoya.

Eh, they were attached at the hip for the better part of forty years, it made sense.

Nile didn't have quite as hard a heart as he'd like people to think, either. He dropped by the gate more often than not nowadays. It was becoming clear that nothing would seem quite right without the _entire_ gang_. _

If possible, Gingka would have gone insane from lack of insults by now.

Yeah, you read Yu right.

Kyoya Tategami was the only one with enough guts, or at least gall, to insult Hagane after the whole "saving the world" thing. Everyone looked up to the Pegasus. Gingka wanted to be seen as a regular guy. And by a fellow _blader_. (Old souls that looked at you funny when you mentioned beyblade didn't count.) Gingka was on the verge of crabby (if you can believe it) and it made people nervous.

And Tendo? He was . . . off. His mask was cracking. He was lonely. The Eagle had always been something between a brother and a best friend. Even when they were both adults.

"Tsubasa, you can't be having too much fun down there. That old body must be in pain . . . all of us are up here. Please come home . . ." Heaven . . . it was home, right? Even though that's not what Otori could call it?

Yeah, yeah . . . it would be home for all of them soon enough. This place of clouds, golden spires, and old souls was just an empty apartment. For all the bladers "living" in it. People made a home, not furniture. A lavishly decorated space can't be called home without someone to cook on the stove (complaining about always being forced to do so), read the paper aloud (annoying the entire household), or at least a dog (to jump on strangers and embarrass his owner to no end.)

_No house is a home without a little mischief, after all_ Yu giggles.

. . .

Some hopeless hours later, the boys wander off.

"He's not going to come for a long time, is he? Tsubasa always had something important to do. That must be why he's hanging on," Yu mumbles under his breath, jumping dejectedly from atop the Pearly Gates. An angel puts a hand on the blader's shoulder.

"Be patient. You had your time. He will have his. It may not feel like it, but there's a reason for everything. He's down there for more than filing paperwork. That's what interns are for" The creature smirks at his partner, who looks away angrily. "Your friend is a comforter, a survivor, and a friend. He's liking bolstering the others' spirits. Death is scary. It is unknown. When he is finished with his final task, he will come." The guard of Heaven's gate returns to duty, and Yu returns to the city.

He feels better, but not by much.

. . .

A lone purple soul appears at a lavishly decorated gate. The creature on post asks for its name, looking bored. He skims through an appointment book, sighing.

"Listen, forget it. Nobody from Japan is supposed to be here for . . ." the angel squints "Another few hours. You must have committed suicide, which means-"

"My name is Tsubasa Otori and I. Did. Not. Commit. Suicide. I'm sure your boss can tell you that's not my style." The two have a short glaring contest, hoping to determine the stronger man.

Er, spirit.

The angel sighs and rolls his eyes in disgust, deciding to forfeit with attitude.  
Never get into staring match with something devoid of eyes.

"These records come from the highest of heaven's ranks. The Big Boss. You know, the Omniscient One? He's never-"

A low, booming voice cuts through the clouds.

"Check the soul's story."

Suddenly terrified, feathers standing on edge, the lackey does as he is told, muttering something about how archangel's think they know everything.

_A small rift opens in the floor, but blank nothingness is soon replaced by an image of a mortuary. Tsubasa's body lies there, stone dead. The soul shivers at seeing himself in such a condition, with hardly a speck of color in his face. _

_The (assumed) archangel, still preferring to remain invisible, says to "zoom in" on the toe tag._

_It read "died October 15th, heart attack."_

_"Could have poisoned himself . . ." the minor angel mumbled._

_"Three blocks from home? Don't be ridiculous. He hadn't even picked out a present for his granddaughter yet. Let him in, we'll sort out the paperwork later."_

_The rift snaps closed and Tsubasa is lead through Heaven's usual spiel. He ends up taking the form of when he was first made president of the WBBA, and is quickly ushered inside._

"Wait, this is heaven. What paperwork?" The winged creature looks skyward in confusion, then shrugs his shoulders.

If it does turn out to be a murder Heaven's Host couldn't predict, this one is definitely above his pay grade.

_. . ._

Tsubasa wandered through the cloudy streets, decorated with every kind of beautiful jewel and beautiful metal, hoping to find a familiar face.

"Those nuts have to be around here somewhere. Ryuga may not have made the cut, but come on, Yu, Gingka, Kenta . . . someone." Otori scratched his head and sighed.

Then something tackles the silver-haired blader.

Face planted into the clouds, he scrambled to his feet with a speed time had once taken from him, then looks down.

His attacker, the approximate size of a squirrel, and blond. It could only add up to one person. "YU!" Otori could have cried, it had been so long. Fifteen years without his best friend. And now . . .

"Why the heck are you so small . . ." Don't get him wrong, it reminded Tsubasa of the old days, so no complaints. But Tendo could be as tall as a sequoia right now, like when he was in his 20s. Kid ended up dwarfing Ryo, a surprise of epic proportions.

Especially to Ryo. godfather.

The Libra dusted himself off and looked up at Tsubasa the same old way, with that same old smile, and answers in that same old way "My time with you was my best memory." The kid's smile is the spittin' image of the joyful smile Tsubasa's grandson has semi-permanently glued to his face. Even though he's well into his 30s. The boy no doubt learned it from his god-grandfather.

Yu had his friend the second he turned on that infamous grin. Nostalgia overwhelms the Eagle. Everything from being overwhelmed with dark power to coercing Yu into going to bed at a decent hour. For better or for worse, Tendo was always at his side. Bangs suddenly hiding his face, Otori smiles, desperately trying to hold back tears.

_It all happened so many years ago. So many lifetimes. Things have happened. I'm not even sure if Yu and I were even on good terms when he died. Work, family, the world just ended up taking over. But at his funeral . . . at that God-awful, hellish day, I felt like I'd lost the kid forever. The one in me and him. _

_But here he is. Short as ever. _

At that point, Tsubasa summarily said to hell with manliness, sinks to his knees, tears in his eyes, and wraps his arms around his best friend before the boy knows what happened.

"Missed ya." Otori's voice cracks.

"Same here." Yu returns the hug, grin nearly splitting his face in half.

"So this is home?"

"Now that you're here."

**. . .**

**PS I'd advise listening to Dolly Parton's Swing Low Sweet Chariot cover for. It describes this chapter as perfectly as perfectly as can get, if not the entire story. If Country doesn't float your boat, there's always Matt Maher's "Hold Us Together".**

**PPS Yeah . . . This is probably a cliffhanger for another story. Dunno. I might just edit out the loose ends. But for now, HA! Complete button, come to mama! **


End file.
